Message From the Universe

I told my wife that I keep seeing our daughter's former classmates at the store, but now they're all grown up!

"What do you think it means?" I asked my wife.  "Is the Universe trying to tell me something?"

"Yes, you're old."

Ask Amy

The letter to Ask Amy from the mom of a 4-year-old girl that described how her daughter cut her own bangs and then lied about it¹ reminded me of my own hair cutting incident.

I was sick and tired of how my mom’s friends would fawn over my eyelashes.  “Oh, how long and pretty they are!”  “I’d give anything to have eyelashes like that!”  And so, you guessed it, I cut them.

At the dinner table, my mom noticed immediately and reacted strongly: “Did you cut your eyelashes!?  Why did you do that?  You could’ve poked your eye out!”  And so on.

Frankly I was surprised and insulted.  Surprised because I thought they were my eyelashes; why should it be anyone’s business?  And the “poke your eyes out” remark was utterly insulting.  I was anything but a klutz.  I was a “Little Professor” type of boy, always carefully coloring inside the lines, and I (literally) had excellent hand-eye coordination.

Two takeaways here are: children rarely are given the credit they deserve; and showing overt attention to a child can have unexpected consequences.

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¹https://www.chicagotribune.com/2024/04/26/ask-amy-sex-offender-lives-in-the-neighborhood/

Virtual Visit Back Home

I’d been reminiscing about my childhood – the neighborhood, the house I grew up in, and especially the backyard. So I took a virtual trip “back home” using Google Maps.

Google Maps starts out in Map View. I switched first from Map View to Satellite. The image seemed to have enhanced perspective, so the house seemed taller. It looked as if a second story was added to the 1-level ranch I grew up in. Then I switched to Street View and saw the property as if standing in front of it.

The house itself looked the same. There was no alteration. Because it’s brick, it was the same color. However, the landscape had been redesigned recently. The strip of grass next to the driveway was paved over (I used to park on it anyway). The huge azaleas were replaced with weird-looking topiary plants. The wood fencing that was silvered with decades of sun exposure was replaced with shiny white vinyl fencing. But the most devastating change was this: all the trees were gone. We had four oak trees in a row that we’d hide behind or zig-zag through on our bikes. In fact many trees around the neighborhood were gone. It made me sad.

Adding to the sadness is the fact that the street view images were taken in November, so the few trees that were there were already bare. The photos were taken on a brilliantly sunny day, so the shadows were long, and the images were bleached from over exposure. And no people were about, as if the population was wiped out by a plague – quite a contrast to my memory of how we used to play in the street or stand around and socialize with the neighbors.

You can visit many places with Google Maps, but you can’t go back in time.

Google Maps

When Getting Ahead Means Not Falling Behind

For many years my life has been one of working, eating and sleeping long before the pandemic.  The only "going out" I'd ever do is for errands.

Today I am officially self-isolating.  The only difference between then and now is that now I work from home instead of at the workplace.  My errands are not restricted (at least not the ones I do.)

When I saw gas prices plummet a few weeks ago¹ and then learned that I'd get a 2% raise, I became hopeful that maybe I'd be able to save some money and not have to live paycheck to paycheck (albeit with a small cushion of savings).  As well it was reported that car insurance companies would be mailing checks to its customers who are driving less and getting into fewer crashes.  All that, in combination with a CARE act payment, got me thinking that I might be able to get ahead before having to pay off massive student load debt that has been deferred to November.  And speaking of student loan debt, the government set interest rates to 0% for their loans.  What a relief!

But just as quickly as the good news accumulated, it all came crashing down.  First I learned that my employer will be cutting salaries and maybe even reducing hours for some employees.  It’s not that business is bad.  Actually it’s just the opposite; customers are increasing orders.  However, the CEO believes that things will get bad very quickly.  The current uptick in sales is due to customers wanting to “pull in” and build inventory in the event of a supply chain failure.  So my employer is being proactive to sooth the fears of investors.  After all, the aristocrats must never be inconvenienced!

And then when the student loan interest rate was set to zero, I suddenly found that I had to make my first payment next week.  This payment is about 30% more than my housing expense!

And on top of that, my term life insurance policy lapsed due to late payment.  They’re so busy responding to death claims (unfortunately) that I can’t make any progress on getting it reinstated.  (True I was a dumbass for making the payment so late….)  So now I’m extremely anxious I might die of coronavirus and leave my loved ones in the poor house.  Plus I was just diagnosed with prostate cancer, so who knows if they will agree to reinstate me, or even if I can even get another insurance policy?

And of course most of my retirement savings is in equities, which have dropped sharply in value.

Well, I did manage to re-request the deferment from the student loan servicer, so I managed to plug one of the leaks in the dyke.

It’s at times like these that I start to catastrophize:

• What if an appliance fails and needs replacing?
• What if a tree falls on the house (or a neighbor’s house)?
• What if the car needs major repair work?
• What if I lose my job?

So then I need to breathe, bring myself back to the present and think of all the good fortune I have.

Hope all is well with you!

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¹The drop in the cost of gasoline was due initially to a feud between Saudi Arabia and Russia.  The policy of self-isolation came later and further lowered prices due to a decrease in demand.

Medium and Large and Nothing In Between

Look at the typical size chart¹ for men’s underwear, if you will, and tell me if you see anything wrong?

Size	Waist (inches)
S	28 - 30
M	32 - 34
L	36 - 38
XL	40 - 42
2XL	44 - 46
3XL	48 - 50

Well?

Here’s the problem. What do you do if your waist is 31”, 35”, 37” and so on? Fruit of the Loom tells you to select the next larger size. Hanes doesn’t even offer such advice, unless you ask customer service, and then they also advise the next larger size.

I am size 35, which is between M and L. So I bought the larger size, L. But they were too baggy, even after one washing in hot water. They felt like boxer briefs. M (which I bought next) was a better choice for me since I prefer a lower rise brief. M is a bit too snug, but aren’t they're supposed to be "tighty-whities"? So I'll continue to wash the L briefs in hot water each week hoping they'll shrink into the unavailable in between size.

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¹ This size chart can be found on the following web pages:

https://www.fruit.com/sizeguide

https://www.hanes.com/shop/hanes/hanes-mens-briefs-120442?categoryId=21065#

#NaBloPoMo2019

Post Election Speech

Many friends and relatives, both online and in real life, are upset, stunned, ashamed, worried, etc. about the results of yesterday's election. Their reactions are extreme in some cases.

One loved one exclaimed, "Don't say to me to relax, take a deep breath, everyone's gonna be alright...":

But we do need to relax; we do need to breathe. However we should not be complacent and assume that everything will work out.  We must work hard to tip the scales back toward love and compassion.  Treat all humanity with respect and honor.  All life is precious.

As an artist / engineer, I can do this.  I think you can, too. A difficult challenge has been set before us, and we will "up our game" to meet and exceed this challenge.  Be positive.  Be a beacon of light and hope.  Only then will everything be alright.

Peace and love to you all!

Carry My Stuff

I'm still thinking about My Personal Assistant, the post in which I list the chores I would prefer to delegate to a Personal Assistant.  Let me add one more: Carry My Stuff.

I am overwhelmed by My Stuff.  I can't handle it all.  I bring stuff to work; I bring it back home again.

What do I have?  Water.  Lunch.  Tablet.  Wallet.  Badge.  Hat.  Tissues.  Jacket.  Inhaler.  Pen.  Keys.  Snack.    ShoppingListOfMoreStuffToBuy.  SomethingToFaxForMyWife.^*  (Crap, I just remembered that I forgot to bring carrot sticks for my snack today.)

I cram all My Stuff haphazardly into a reusable shopping bag to make it easier to Carry.  But it's not easy.

It's a warm day, so I decide to Carry my jacket instead of wear it.  And I Carry the bag.  (Heck let's just call it a murse, okay?)  Now I also need to Carry the keys.  In my third hand.  In my dreams.

No, in my dreams, My Personal Assistant would Carry My Stuff.  As I leave for work, she somehow has already gathered It All and cheerfully follows me out the door with It.  Brrr, it's cold, so instantly she dresses me in my jacket.  The car is locked.  But she's got the keys, and deftly unlocks and opens the door.

At work the Pecan Pie that I ordered is delivered by a coworker's Boy Scout son.  My Personal Assistant brings it down to the cafeteria and places it in the freezer.

When it's time to leave for the day, My Personal Assistant actually remembers the pie (which I forgot three days in a row, so far) and adds it to all My Other Stuff.

We go to the store.  She carries the shopping list and ensures I get everything on the list.  Plus ice cream for herself, if she so chooses.  She brings it all to the car and stows it away, and she gets the tablet I accidentally left behind in the shopping cart as an added bonus.⁺

This is a wonderful dream.

Oh, and the Personal Assistant's name, if you haven't already guessed, is "Mommy."

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^* It is true that I do not have a cell phone.
⁺ I did this twice, so far.  I drove home from the supermarket, leaving my tablet in the shopping cart in the parking lot.

When Do You Use "We"?

"What do guys see in her?" my wife might ask about any of her friends.

This is obviously treading dangerously into "Does this make me look fat?" territory.  The best response is to shrug an "I dunno" back with a slightly dumbfounded look.  But not too dumbfounded, because, after all, the discussion is about one of my wife's friends.

But in my mind, the answers come easily, "They see a tight ass," or "They'll go after anything in a skirt," or "She looks easy."  Notice that I use the pronoun "They" not "We," even in the privacy of my compartmentalized mind.  But I'm a guy, so why don't I say "We" as in "We see a tight ass?"  Because let's face it, I do like a tight ass.

The reason is that the question, "What does guys see in her?" is subtly loaded with loathing.  It's like asking, "Why do [disgusting] dogs like to roll in shit?"  "Because, my dear, we like tight shit." "I dunno."

Even for neutral questions, I might hesitate to use "We" at least until I'm comfortable with the direction  a discussion is taking.  Consider this exchange:

"Why do engineers always talk about their gadgets at parties?"

"I dunno"

"I mean there's so much to talk about: the latest movies; the weather; the upcoming election..."

"Well I guess it's because they think gadgets are cool."

"Gosh if you've seen one gadget, you've seen them all."

"Oh, but we understand the technology behind them."


The biggest reason I avoid using "We" is because I don't feel I belong to any group.   A quiet sense of alienation has followed me around like a shadow all my life.  I've always felt like an outsider, an imposter, to the human race.

What about you?  When do you use "We?"

My Personal Assistant

Today's NaBloPoMo writing prompt is "If you had a personal assistant who would do your most dreaded tasks, which items from your to-do list would you assign out?"

Here's that list:

1. Feed all four cats at 5:30am and refresh their water.
2. Feed the dog and play fetch with him.
3. Prepare for my daughter: breakfast by 6:15am; a bagged lunch by 6:45am.
4. Put out my wife's medications for the day.
5. Scoop the litterboxes.
6. Prepare a bagged lunch for me.  (I'll take care of my own breakfast.)
7. Change the dressing on my wife's wound.
8. Make and receive all phone calls.
9. Pick up my daughter from school at 5:45pm.
10. Take my wife and daughter to all their appointments / functions.
11. Teach my daughter to drive.
12. Load the dishwasher properly.

I chose these tasks mostly because they either take place in the morning and require that I get up earlier than I'd like in order to do them myself, or they require being somewhere at a particular time or getting something done by a particular time.

My life would be so much better if I could get out of bed after dawn.  I'm sure I'd have more energy and effortlessly lose weight as a result.

I designed my career so that I could have a lifestyle in which I could ignore the clock.  I chose a lower-paying job in research, in which I could work odd hours, rather than in service, in which you'd tell someone what time you'd arrive and then actually arrive at that time^*.  I never went on vacations because I hate to fly and that's because you have to follow an airline schedule.  Likewise, I never went to the movies.

As a bachelor, I hardly ever needed to pay attention to the time.  Getting married, then, was a terrible mistake for someone like me.  My wife used something called an "alarm clock" that would suddenly make a loud noise at the same very early time each morning.  This was because she'd have to drive to her work place and arrive by 8am.  She'd also need me to tell her what time I'd get home from work and then get upset when I gave my usual answer ("I dunno") or failed to show up at whatever time I guessed I could make it home by.  Then there was the insistence that we go to Church, which meant paying attention to a clock on a Sunday!

Despite this wifely imposition of time, I did pretty well.  It wasn't until the Pregnancy that things got much more difficult.  There were more doctor visits for us during those nine months than I had my whole life.  And then after the birth, we were ruled by a living, screaming, excreting life form that you wouldn't dare ignore even if you were so sick that even your eyes hurt.  This is the same life form that, 17 years later, sends you racing to a place to pick her up or drop her off at a Certain Time, lest she show up embarrassingly late for a presentation, or be tempted to walk home alone in the dark in the sleeting rain wearing flip-flops.  That's way more responsibility than I ought to have.

I'm dreaming of my old life.  My daughter will have moved out.  My wife would be dead or living in Florida with her best friend.  If I was curious enough, the alarm clock could show me the time, but it certainly wouldn't make a sound ever again.  I'd probably not bother to switch between Standard Time and Daylight Savings Time.

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^* This is a quaint notion. Nowadays, someone in service will give you what's called a "window" which is essentially a free pass to show up at any time on a given day and still be considered punctual.

Depression

Autumn has always been a difficult time of year for me, even as far back as when I was a teenager.

It's the start of allergy season.  It's when the Sun climbs less high in the sky every day.  It's when school really starts to get serious.

Well, I'm not in school anymore, but my daughter is.  I get up before dawn to help her get ready for the day -- make her breakfast, pack her lunch, and see her off.  Plus I make sure the cats and dog are fed.  Otherwise they might try to steal her food.

She's a senior this year, so we're expending additional effort for the college search and application process.  But there's no money.  So this year is especially difficult for me.

The many months I've been acting as my wife's care-giver has worn me out.  She's had an open sore since June of last year that refuses to heal.  No medical professional really knows what to do about it.  I've been changing the dressing every two days.  Two surgeons want to operate, but how that wound is going to heal no one explains.  My wife's other chronic unhealthiness is getting even more expensive.  Plus she self-medicates with shopping trips.

And get this: the roof is starting to leak.

A doctor once suggested that I might have low-level depression.  I told him there's nothing to be happy about.  Every freakin' thing I really enjoy is either unhealthy, too time consuming, or (somewhat) immoral. Sometimes I can muster "satisfaction" or "pride," but nothing approaching happiness, joy or elation.

Let me eat as much ice cream as I want (without discomfort or ill effects). Let me sleep three hours more each day and work on my blog for a few hours. Let me not have to worry about my wife. Let me have these things, then can we talk about happy.

A Farewell to Doorbells and Knockers

Do you remember how when everyone started to use a cellphone, telephone booths gradually faded out of existence?  Will the same happen to doorbells and knockers?

Consider how people call or text when they arrive at their destinations: "im here where r u"  Why bother to ring a doorbell or knock?

A few weeks ago I arrived at my daughter's friend's house to pick her up.  She was at a gathering that wasn't going well and needed a ride home while the party was still in full swing.  I could see a few kids through a gap in the blinds.  I don't have a cellphone^*, so I rang the doorbell.  Nothing.  I knocked on the screen door.  Still nothing.  I knocked on the door frame.  Nothing yet again.  I Knocked Really Hard on the Door Frame.  Finally, I got a head to turn in my direction.

Fortunately they had been viewing a movie on a dinky little laptop.  What if they had been watching on a home theater system with surround sound?  I'd've had to knock on a neighbor's door and ask to use the phone.  Or drive right up to the front door, honk the horn and flash the lights.  Or forcibly enter and search among the hooded bodies until I found one that resembled my daughter.

This homeowner's doorbell stopped working.  Will she ever notice?  Will she ever get it fixed?  Why bother? It's obsolete.  Besides, the only people who use the doorbell now are strangers: Trick or Treaters, door-to-door salesmen, Jehovah's Witnesses.  You're better off not answering.

When was the last time you used a doorbell?

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^* My brother doesn't have a cellphone, either. But at least I check Facebook once a month or so.

What's Your Life Purpose?

These are my answers to Mark Manson's slightly quirky "7 Strange Questions That Help You Find Your Life Purpose" which you can find at http://markmanson.net/life-purpose .

1. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF SHIT SANDWICH AND DOES IT COME WITH AN OLIVE?
This question made no sense to me.  First of all, the wording is stupidly designed to grab one's attention rather than to provoke thought.  Perhaps you'll find it easier to answer this, "What miserable or tedious activity are you willing to endure in pursuit of your passion?"  Even worded this way, it's difficult to answer -- "one man's meat is another man's poison."  There are activities that I would dread (such an influencing someone to invest in something or purchase something) that others would relish.  And those others might assume that everyone enjoys those activities.  I'm sure there are activities that most normal people abhor that I don't mind.  But I don't know what those activities might be.  Nevertheless, the first thing I came up with is this: I'm willing to repeatedly work and rework something until it's perfect.

2. WHAT IS TRUE ABOUT YOU TODAY THAT WOULD MAKE YOUR 8-YEAR-OLD SELF CRY?
My 8-year-old self had absolutely no empathy toward people.  He would've cried if his cracker broke while he was buttering it, or if he got stung by a bee, or if the fast food joint put tomato on his burger even after he told them not to.  But he wouldn't cry over his future self.  Still, I'm sure he'd be disappointed that, as an engineer, I haven't invented anything cool like a space probe, rocket ship or killo-zap ray gun.

3. WHAT MAKES YOU FORGET TO EAT AND POOP?
Art and coding, and especially Artful Coding.  Figuring stuff out, like how to perform calculus with batch files.

4. HOW CAN YOU BETTER EMBARRASS YOURSELF?
This is another nonsensical question.  What it's really asking is, "What's something you'd really like to do but you have refrained from only because you think you'd look silly doing it or people would laugh at you?"  For me, there's nothing worthwhile to be done that I consider silly.  Become a rock musician?  Sure, why not?  Go on an autumn bike tour in Vermont?  I'm there, even though my legs sometimes don't work too well.
The closest I can get is perhaps publishing a very personal, revealing, intimate autobiography (one that would include even all my erotic fantasies) prior to the deaths of all my immediate family members and myself.

5. HOW ARE YOU GOING TO SAVE THE WORLD?
Yeah, right?  Like anyone's going to listen to me?  The world will have to fend for itself.  I'm done thinking about what's wrong with it.  I can't even convince Google to provide an option to turn off Autosave or implement Copy-Drag in its online editors, which is why I'm writing this in a word processing program rather than the default Blogger post editor.
Well, still, on my own small personal scale, I am doing all I can to lower my ecological footprint.  I didn't install the air conditioner in the kitchen this year - it wasn't oppressively hot enough.  I'm a hypermiler, but I'd prefer to walk or bike everywhere if I could.  I'd like to go solar and live off the grid.  I wear clothes until they're threadbare - even the thrift stores don't want my old clothes.  I'm willing to forage more, especially if I can safely identify edible invasive plants that can be eaten raw or steamed.  I fix broken appliances rather than throw them out to make room for new ones.  I've started to find uses for ordinary twigs in home repairs and crafts.

6. GUN TO YOUR HEAD, IF YOU HAD TO LEAVE THE HOUSE ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, WHERE WOULD YOU GO AND WHAT WOULD YOU DO?
Easy.  I would go into a large forested watershed that's blazed with hiking trails, bringing my camera, a hearty snack or two and lots of water, and hike all day.  And you don't need a gun to make that happen.
What's with the gun thing, anyway?  Is this written for Millennials who stereotypically stay indoors in front of their computers all day?

7. IF YOU KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO DIE ONE YEAR FROM TODAY, WHAT WOULD YOU DO AND HOW WOULD YOU WANT TO BE REMEMBERED?
Within one year, I might frame my best cat photos and exhibit them at the library, and I could also use the exhibit as a platform for a fundraiser for our favorite cat shelter.

So what does all this mean?  Is my purpose to do Artful Coding for a Cat Shelter that's located in an off-grid cabin close to a woodland stream?  If you leave out the detail about the Cat Shelter, it could make me out to be like Ted Kaczynski.


What are your answers?  I want to know.

Pulled Off Center

Today I was pulled way off center.

My plan was to drop off my wife's car at the mechanic near my work place for minor service, then drive it over to get the biennial state-mandated inspection at lunch time.

Plans, well, they often go awry.  But I was able to take a break from work when the car was ready, at about 4:15pm.  The inspection station would still be open when I got there, but I was annoyed at all the traffic.

I was especially annoyed at a blue Honda that I'd waited patiently for.  I could've pulled out in front of it, not exactly cutting it off, but somewhat rudely causing it to slow down when I would eventually turn off the road 30 yards later.

But after I pulled into the road behind it, I could tell that this car was also headed for the inspection station.  The clue was the temporary license plate that was affixed to the inside of the rear window.  So it seemed that this driver would be first in line for inspection, and I'd have to wait.  I still had to call in an order of Chinese food, pick that food up, and then pick up my daughter at school before finally arriving home.

I shadowed the blue Honda, turn for turn.  It parked in the only parking spot near the station's entrance.  I had to pull the car around back and park partly on a sheet of slippery, compacted snow.

Yet, somehow I managed to walk to the door of the testing station before the other driver, who, it turned out, was a young attractive woman.  She moved in a Certain Way, like the musical way that tall grass blows in a gentle breeze.  She moved just like another young attractive woman who works at the same company as me.

At first I decided to pretend I didn't see her and let the door close behind me.  But then I stopped in the threshold and held the door open for her, because I felt her Pull.

She was conversational, asking what the station's hours were (when they were clearly displayed) and how much the test would cost.  After we checked in with the attentant we sat down on separate couches.

I'd been at the station before.  Back then they had two friendly dogs roaming about.  But the dogs weren't here today, so I asked about them.  Then the woman perked up and said she'd like to get a dog.  She'd been through a divorce just recently and her ex took the dog and her son really misses it.  I jokingly said she could have mine.  Then, seriously, I mentioned the rescue organization that I got my dog from.

It wasn't just the divorce that she'd been through.  Today, she was also laid off from her job.  "The condo's expensive," she added.  I thought she was going to cry.  And the reason for the temporary plate was that her registration had expired and she was fined and the car was towed away.  On top of that the taxes are due next month.

At this point I wanted to help her so badly.  I would've hired her if I ran a business.  And then I thought of starting a business so that I could hire her.  Or I could pay her to pet sit whenever our family went away (not that we ever go anywhere overnight).  My employer always seems to have an opening for an assembler, so I mentioned that.  But she knew about my workplace; her sister works there.  Her sister, is, of course, the other woman who moves, enchantingly, in that same Certain Way.

In a mystical flash, I sensed the life lines of her and her sister very briefly.  Her sister came to the workplace a couple of years ago, a fresh start after a divorce and a bad experience at another company.  And now this blue Honda woman's life line, co-mingling ever so briefly with mine, drifts along much like her sister's.

Raised To Be Suspicious

"Who would want to send a bomb to you? Why?" 

I started to answer in a comment to Reactions to a Mystery Gift.  Then I realized I was about to write another blog post.

The premise is that a package arrives for you unexpectedly.  What do you do?  Well, I already described what I'd do in that post that I linked to, above.  But why?

Ted Kaczynski, aka The Unabomber, targeted public technology figures.  When he was actively mailing bombs to people, I was an engineer at a high-tech company, and I sometimes made public appearances.  I felt that I fit the description well enough to be targeted.

One day I actually did receive an unsolicited package that had no recognizable return address.  So I walked up to a coworker with said package, handed it to him and asked him to open it.  It was mostly in fun.  He was a friend with a good sense of humor, and I think he appreciated how I stuck my fingers in my ears in case there was a loud popping sound.  I also said something to the effect that he was more expendable than me.  Whatever.

Well, the package of course did not blow up.  What was inside?  Promotional materials for a new website, TechRepublic, perhaps.

The criminal was caught more than 17 years ago, yet my first impulse upon receiving an unexpected package is to be suspicious.  When I wonder why, I realize that I was raised this way.  The bomb threats simply revived my train of thought on suspicion.

I was raised in New York.  Nothing's for free, especially in New York.  Free samples are used to entice you to buy a product, get you addicted, get you framed.  If someone walks up to you and hands you a can of spray paint, don't be surprised if, thirty seconds later, a cop shows up and puts cuffs on you for writing graffiti.

Street wise people know not to accept anything for free.  You don't pick up money on the sidewalk.  You don't go into a store that promises "Free Ice Cream."  You don't talk to the man offering the free lollipop.

Whoever said "The best things in life are free" did not live in New York.

Panic of the Parent of the Soon-To-Be Fledgling

What do you call the shock that new parents experience when they realize their son or daughter will be moving away to college in less than three years?  Perhaps the term could be "Panic of the Parent of the Soon-To-Be Fledgling."  Hmmm, that's unwieldy.

Whatever it's called, that's what I got.  It's like you're hiking briskly on an easy trail, and then you look back and notice zombies lumbering along behind you, in relentless pursuit.  You suddenly turn a corner and see a steep, daunting, rocky ascent.  The weather turns cold, and dark storm clouds devour the sun.  And you suddenly realize that you didn't pack rain gear or a hearty snack.

This particular type of panic, of some fearful thing that looms in the future, is ideal for getting my heart racing -- much better than a jolt of "red-eye" coffee.  I can rouse myself out of bed with it in the morning to kick-start the day.

The panic started suddenly over the weekend while we attended our very first college fair with our grade ten daughter.  We joked with her to tell the representatives of far off colleges that the primary reason she's interested in their school is because she wants to move as far away as possible from her parents.

Usually panic arises when one is unprepared.  That's true in this case, too.  We haven't prepared our daughter to be self-sufficient.  We have about two-and-a-half years to encourage our daughter to:

• Shop for her own groceries, supplies and toiletries.
• Manage her own bank account and finances.
• Do her own laundry.
• Remind her about appointments.
• Eat and drink and take supplements on a fixed schedule.
• Get herself ready for the day.

On top of that, I'm the one she turns to for night-before-the-big-scary-test help sessions in math and science.

But the worst part is we haven't put any money into a college savings account.  I've put any extra money into the 401(k) plan that my employer manages.  We also didn't count on my wife becoming partly disabled, so not only does my wife not earn money, we spend money on her multiple doctors and medication.

Well, that's the good thing about panic -- it gives you the energy to prepare.  And if my wife and I are clever about it, we'll have our daughter soon doing the laundry.

Reactions to a Mystery Gift

Cranky Fibro Girl related a funny story regarding her parents' reaction to a surprise gift that she sent to them through Amazon.  She described the conversation that took place between them, which you can read here.

If my wife and were to get a surprise gift in a similar manner, here's how our hypothetical conversation would play out:

Wife (calling me at work): The package you ordered arrived.

Me: What package?

Wife: I don't know.  It's from Amazon.com.

Me: I didn't order anything from Amazon.com.

Wife: Well you must have ordered and forgot about it.  You want me to open it?

Me: No. I didn't order anything.   We won't be able to send it back if it's opened.

Wife: Are you sure you didn't order something and then forgot about it?  You know how forgetful you are.

Me: I'm not the one who's forgetful!  You're the one who's always forgetting things.

Wife: Well, whatever, it's here.  I can open it if you want.

Me: No, I need to check my account and my charge card first.

Later...

Me: Well, I didn't order anything, and there's no charge on my credit card.  It might be a gift.  You can open it if you want.  [Then, thinking it might from one of my very weird Internet friends...]  Hmmm, maybe don't open it.  It could be hoax or a bomb.


How would you react to an unexpected package?

The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

Long ago folks baked loaves of bread at home or bought them whole from a bakery.  At some point, it became possible to buy the bread pre-sliced.  The Wikipedia article on Sliced Bread describes the history of bread slicing and how the expression "The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread" came about. Apparently sliced bread was a wonderful breakthrough.  Today only artisan bread is sold whole.

I bought my first loaf of unsliced bread just a few years ago.  I really liked it!

First of all, it was not at all difficult to slice the bread with a proper bread knife.  And I could make the slices any thickness I desired.  I usually made them as thin as possible.  For small dense 100% rye bread, that's less than 1/2 cm (about 1/8 inch).  I'd allow for nearly a full 1 cm for more porous, airy loaves.  Compared to sliced bread, my slices are 25% to 50% thinner.

Second, sliced bread gets stale more quickly.  A whole loaf has a crust to protect the inner portion.  Once it's sliced, that protection is gone.  I keep my bread wrapped tightly in an intact plastic bag and refrigerated, so the loaves I buy last a few weeks.  (I don't eat much bread.)

So every time I slice bread, I smile and say to myself, "Unsliced bread is the greatest thing since sliced bread."

Distractions in my Day-to-Day Routine

[Written two and a half years ago for a course on Concentration]

For this assignment, take stock of your day to day routine. In doing so, jot down what your routine is on most days. Then think about what type of distractions you often encounter. Write your list of distractions and come up with ways that you can try to address them. Submit your list and of distractions and possible ways you can address them to the instructor.

My typical week day involves getting ready for work at home, driving to work, working, driving back home, ending the day at home.

When I'm at home, I'm distracted by

1. The needs of my wife and daughter. Even if they don't interrupt, I expect them to, so I don't get deeply involved in any activity until they're out of the house or in bed. I get our daughter ready to school. Even though she's a teenager, I want to be involved. Otherwise she'll probably make herself a breakfast of three Hershey Kisses and go out into 30F weather wearing just a flimsy sweatshirt and jeans. I can make my own breakfast while making something for our daughter. I can find out if things are going well for her at school during breakfast or while waiting with her at the bus stop.
2. The cuteness of our pets (or the damage they do). I'm either fawning over our cats, or cleaning up after them. Sometimes I take a quick break to pet one of them. Or I protect my meal from the fat one who's always hungry. Once in a while I'll take out the camera to take a picture, even if it will make me late for work. When I take the dog outside, he wants to play outside for a while. When I'm outside with the dog, I can let him roll around on the ground while I pick up branches from the lawn or get the newspaper. I want him to be happy. He's a good dog, and he's getting old, so I'm willing to spend time with him. I can keep the hungry cat away from our meals by spraying him with a water bottle. I do some pet photography as a hobby, and this year's Christmas card resulted from taking a picture of a cat that posed under the tree. So even though I'm distracted, I can make something good come from it.
3. Things that are out-of-place and need picking up or straightening. I'll walk from the bathroom to the kitchen and notice a candy wrapper on the living room floor. Or I'll go into the laundry room (which doubles as an overflow pantry) to get more tea and notice that the clothes need to be transferred into the dryer. So I'll do that and forget about the tea. I'm trying to condition our daughter to pick up things that are out-of-place. When I do notice a chore that needs completing, I can ignore it if it's not an emergency.
4. A news story on the radio. I can't seem to listen to the radio while doing something. So if there's something I want to hear, I usually stop what I'm doing to listen. I can turn the radio on just for the five minutes of important news I need and then turn it off when it's over. I don't need to listen to the banter and trivia.
5. Thoughts. I always have an inner dialog (or music) going on in my head. I'm meditating more and trying to stay mindful.

While driving, I can be distracted by

1. Scenery. I love nature and photography, and I drive through a rural area alongside a river. I can drive slowly when there isn't much traffic and still take in some scenery.
2. Radio. Since I'm a visual thinker, it can be dangerous for me to listen to music or talk radio while driving in heavy traffic. I can drive slowly when there isn't much traffic and enjoy the radio. When driving in traffic or on unfamiliar roads, I turn off the radio.
3. Passengers. This is the same as having the radio on. But I can't turn them off. I don't respond to passengers when driving in traffic or on unfamiliar roads.
4. Thoughts (particularly what I have planned for the day). Again, I drive slowly. But I find that the process of driving a normal speed keeps me from thinking, and I focus better on driving.

At work, distractions include:

1. E-mail. I tend to keep the e-mail client open and check it whenever I get a new message notification. When I need to focus, I do close the e-mail client.
2. Phone calls. When I really need to focus, I unplug the phone. Activating the "Do Not Disturb" function doesn't help -- it still beeps to indicate that someone is trying to call.
3. In-person interruptions. I'm one of those folks that seems to know a lot about everything, so when a "new guy" is stymied, he'll come to me. I can ask him to come back later, or promise that I'll get back to him within 15 minutes, which can give me enough time to reach a good breaking point in my work. Sometimes just a look of intensity can dissuade someone from interrupting. This does not work for the boss, though.
4. Noisy co-workers. The guy next to me not only talks loud on the phone, but he uses speaker phone, too. Earplugs, headphones?
5. "What if" thoughts (work related). The work I do often involves solving problems. Sometimes I'll come up with an idea for a problem that I'm not currently working on. Or I'll learn about a new tool that might be helpful later. Rather than stop my current task to explore the new idea or tool, I'll use my new capture tool to record a brief note about the thought and then return to my task.
6. Thoughts (not related to work). There's a lot going on in my personal life: family & pet issues, volunteer activities, car and home maintenance, finances. I can use the capture tool to record notes about these thoughts, too, so that I can let go of them more easily.
7. Muscle stiffness and other physical discomfort. Some days I just can't seem to sit because my legs ache. Also, I've found if I don't eat well, I'll feel gnawing hunger pains or experience dizziness. If I eat too much or the wrong foods, I can feel bloated or foggy. I can stick to my diet and avoid empty foods or those that I can't tolerate. I can get plenty of sleep the night before and take breaks to walk and drink water. I can do office yoga.

Frightened Birds

Chickadee was stuck in our garage the other day.  Even though both doors of our 2-car garage were wide open, this bird couldn't find its way out.  Its usual means of escape, to fly up and away, was thwarted by the ceiling.  It needed to change its tactics.  Escape required diving and then flying level.  I even tried to attract it toward the bottom of an opening by making tweeting and chirping sounds.  But it was too confused to hear my message.

Eventually I found a toy butterfly net.  After Chickadee tired itself out a bit, I slowly approached its perch.  I used my free hand to nudge it from behind into the net that I thrust up in front of it.  I managed to capture the bird briefly, long enough to bring it lower and closer to the opening.  Screaming fiercely, it made one frantic burst of flight straight for the opening and out to freedom.

We humans can find ourselves stuck just like Chickadee.  We may know something's wrong with a situation.  But we don't change our tactics to find a way out.  There may even be signs that lead us out of the situation, but we're too deeply mired to read them.  Then one day, we are nudged from behind by a huge hand of Illness or Job Loss and then trapped by a net of Financial Obligation or a Complex Relationship.  If we act boldly and if we are lucky we can find our way out.

My wife was healthy and energetic up until an unexpected crisis one early September morning forced us to race to the nearest emergency room.  And I, after 20 years of uneventful employment at the same company, suddenly found nine fewer coworkers at the office.  Those nine were laid off with no warning.  One had just bought his first house.  Another had worked at the company for thirty years, ten years longer than me.  I avoided the net this time.  But what about next time?

What messages of escape are you ignoring, frightened bird?

How to Become Euphoric

Do you want to experience a sense of euphoria¹?  Here's how you do it.

Help someone.

Find someone who's struggling and help him or her.

Last night, I experienced euphoria.  I was picking up my daughter from school.  One of the other moms was stuck.  She couldn't start her car -- the battery was weak.  I drove over, hooked up my jumper cables, and gave her a boost.  Also I popped open the battery filler ports and showed her that the water was low.  The woman I helped was my daughter's friend's mom, too.

She was so grateful, and so was my daughter.  But I am even more grateful for the opportunity to make a real difference in someone's life.  And I get another topic for my blog.

How do you become euphoric?

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¹ Euphoria would be a good name for a rock band. In fact, it is the name of a rock band!